


Looked Over

by pennyq22



Series: Whole Family AU [10]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood, Broken Bones, Concussions, Gen, and wakes up alone in the woods, swift gets some owies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24636490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyq22/pseuds/pennyq22
Summary: Swift remembered flashes of running, fighting people, but he doesn't remember how he ended up in the middle of the woods.
Relationships: Hershel Bronev & Theodore Bronev, Rachel Bronev & Hershel Bronev, Rachel Bronev & OC, Rachel Bronev & Swift, Rachel Bronev & Theodore Bronev, Swift & Hershel Bronev, Swift & OC, Swift & Theodore Bronev
Series: Whole Family AU [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1486076
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Looked Over

Swift groaned as he came to. It was dark, the hard, uneven ground digging into his back.

He grimaced as he sat up. His head pounded, limbs burning as if he’d run a marathon. His leg…. He sucked in a sharp breath as he moved it, rolling up his pant leg with shaky hands. Pale skin gave way to a dark bruise, blotchy and absolute hell to touch. He proded at it gently, jerking his hand away a moment later. He looked around, biting his lip.

Trees surrounded him, blocking out whatever moonlight filtered through the leaves. Swift blinked. What was he doing here? Flashes of running, fighting off people came to mind, but….

Swift placed a hand on the side of his head. His fingers met matted hair. He pressed slightly, winced a second later.

So he’d been hit. Likely a concussion. Great.

He rolled over onto his hands and knees, closing his eyes as he was hit with a wave of vertigo, swaying from side to side in his position. When it faded some, he opened his eyes, steeling himself as he attempted to rise to his feet. He stood, teetering on his feet for a moment, and tried to take a step forward.

The second his foot left the ground, his other leg gave a sharp lance of pain before it buckled, and Swift barely managed to catch himself on one of the trees surrounding him before he fell to the ground again. His vision tilted as he grasped onto the peeling bark, sucking in breaths through clenched teeth.

“Fuck,” he managed. His voice was hoarse. He started to right himself, using the tree for support.

He needed to figure out where he was. The rest could wait.

There was a light in the distance. As good a place as any to start.

\---

* * *

\---

It was a house. Looked occupied. Maybe Swift could ask for help.

The trees were thinning, and the longer Swift had walked, the more he could determine that his leg was broken. The pain alone had nearly sent him to the ground a few times.

He didn’t know how he was going to make it to that house. He shakily stood, fumbling in his pockets for anything, _anything_ that might help.

…

No luck. Swift raked a hand through his hair. Maybe… he could try and go as far as he could, then wait until morning. The closer, the better.

Sucking in a breath to steady himself, he stepped with his good leg, taking a shallow step with his broken one a moment later. He managed to stay upright. Good. Rinse and repeat. Go.

He managed to make it a little more than halfway before he fell to the ground again, pain shooting like lightning through his veins. He wheezed, body twitching as he grabbed at his broken leg.

He needed to get there. _Had_ to.

“H-Hey…!” He called out. In the silence, his voice echoed. Surely he was close enough that whoever lived there could hear him. “I need help --!”

This was stupid. He laid down on the ground, looking up at the night sky as he sucked in a breath. Maybe he _would_ have to wait until morning --

“Ah!” Swift shot upright. A kid stood in front of him, hair curling against his forehead. He’d never noticed this kid before -- “Are you… okay, mister?” He asked, voice high-pitched.

“Theodore, momma and Aunt Helen said not to go too far from the house --” Ah. He’d somehow managed to find Rachel Bronev’s home.

They’d been meeting out in town -- Rachel was too afraid to tell him where she lived -- but that didn’t matter right now. Her youngest -- Theodore -- was staring at him with a worried expression.

“I’m afraid I’m not doing so good,” he answered. “Can you go get your mommy for me?”

The boy frowned. “Mommy’s sick --”

“Theodore?”

“Over here!” Theodore turned, jumped up and down while waving his arm Swift spotted his brother, near the house. “There’s someone here!”

Swift had never seen a boy run faster than Theodore’s brother did, stepping in front of his brother. His eyes narrowed.

“...It’s you.” Theodore looked up at his brother, frown deepening.

“But Hershel, he’s hurt.”

“I don’t trust him.” That was fair, Swift thought.

“Kid,” he spoke. Hershel scowled at him. “I’m hurt. Can you go get your mum for me?”

Hershel crossed his arms. “...Momma’s not feeling well.”

“What about Auntie Helen?”

“Well….” Hershel tilted his head. “Maybe.”

“I’m gonna go get her.”

“Wait.” Theodore stopped as he spun around. Hershel still looked suspicious. “Why can’t you get to the door?”

“My leg’s broken.” At that, Hershel’s expression seemed to relax a bit. “And I hit my head somewhere.”

“Huh.” Hershel knelt down. Theodore was wringing his hands together, unsure. “Okay. Go get Aunt Helen.” Theodore started running towards the house. Hershel remained next to Swift. As soon as Theodore was out of ear shot, Hershel tilted his head, poking at the lump on Swift’s head. Swift flinched away with a hiss. “That’s a big goose egg.”

“Yeah?” Swift’s voice was strained. Hershel sat back down, looking like he wanted to probe some more but restraining himself. Swift took the small mercy.

“Over here, mommy!” Hershel looked towards the house, eyebrows furrowed. He stood as Rachel knelt next to Swift, hands fluttering around him. Another woman approached them, holding a flashlight in her hand.

“What happened?” Rachel asked.

“I dunno, I just -- _ow_!”

Rachel pulled her hands away from his head, coughing weakly to the side. “Sorry -- sorry, I just -- that’s a lot of blood, Johnathan.”

“You didn’t need to come out, Rachel.” The woman had a thick accent. “You can hardly move around as it is.”

Swift took a moment to actually take in Rachel’s appearance. She was pale, sweat sticking strands of hair to her forehead. Her hands were shaking, her breathing hard. She turned away, letting out a few wet, honking coughs into the crook of her elbow. Her body shuddered with each spasm.

“Hershel, Theodore, help your mother back into the house.” She looked at Swift as the boys huddled around Rachel, and her eyes narrowed. “Can you stand?”

“I… maybe?”

“Here.” She held out a hand. Swift grabbed it, and was pulled to his feet. His broken leg screamed in protest. He winced, hobbling forwards a little bit. She sighed. “Okay.” She turned, placing Swift’s arm on the back of her neck. Her arm dropped to hold his waist, keeping him upright. “Anything else broken?”

“I-I don’t think so -- _ow_ \--”

“You’ve got a lot of scrapes and cuts.” She stepped forwards, and Swift stepped with her, limping and using her as support. “Bar fight?”

“No. I don’t think so?”

“Hmph. Well -- let’s get you inside and looked over.”


End file.
